Phobia
by njborba
Summary: Steve seeks revenge on the person who helped Danny play a prank on him.


Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, _Hawaii Five-0_.

**Really needed to write something silly for McRoll. Hope you will enjoy.**

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**Phobia**

By  
N. J. Borba

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Steve pushed his office door open as he read Catherine's text message.

He felt a little bad as he texted her back, 'need U 2 stay w Kono, finish processing scene w Duke.'

In return she sent him a frown-face emoticon and the words 'great, gonna reek of fish all day!'

A chuckle escaped as he stowed his phone and walked toward the desk. Steve sat down and noticed there was a magazine on top of his files that he was sure he hadn't left there. It was flipped open to some full page color advertisement for an African safari with the big, long face of a giraffe staring back at him. Steve immediately closed the magazine and looked up when Danny pushed his door open, "Find out anything about the fish packing murder?" Steve asked.

Danny's head shook, "Chin's checking the guy's background, see if any red flags pop up."

With a nod, Steve brandished the magazine, "You happen to know what this copy of Glamour is doing in my office?"

"Shoot, probably it was Grace left it in here this morning," the detective replied, "She was here with me for a few minutes before Rachael picked her up to take her to school. Sorry, I specifically told her not to be in your office, but…"

"Nah, it's fine," Steve dismissed. He was pretty sure he could forgive his honorary niece anything, "I just knew it wasn't mine."

As he took the magazine from Steve, Danny grinned at the cover, "What, not keeping up on the latest in jegging fashion?" he teased.

Chin opened the glass door, "Our dead fish packer was in serious debt, underground gambling. I just got a tip on a guy in Halawa who he owed forty thousand to."

"Let's go," Steve declared. When they got to the Camaro parked out front of the Palace, Steve noticed something on the windshield. He grabbed the yellow piece of paper that was secured by the windshield wiper, "I hate these types of solicitations. They should really…" he finally glanced at the flier, "What the heck is this?"

Danny took the page from Steve, Chin glancing over his shoulder, "Looks like a two for one discount to the zoo. Nice, I might take Grace this weekend."

"There's an animal on there," Steve pointed to the flier, "A giraffe."

"Yes, Steven, very good," the detective nodded. "That is a giraffe. I'm impressed, you really did pass kindergarten. What about giraffes?"

"Never mind, smartass," Steve slipped into the driver's seat, barely waiting for the others to get in before he drove off. They weren't even a few blocks away when he spotted something as they passed a park, a kid flying a kite that had him doing a double take. "Do you see that?" he turned to Danny and then eyed Chin through the rearview mirror.

"See what?" Chin asked.

"That kite just now, I swear it was a…" Steve sighed, noticing the expectant and slightly concerned looks on their faces, "Not important," he let it go.

A few minutes later he parked outside a storefront with a sign labeled: Odds & Ends

The front door chimed as the three of them entered. Steve's eye was instantly drawn to a series of framed pictures hanging behind the man at the front desk of the shop, "What the heck is this place?" he asked as Danny approached the front counter. Chin continued to wander around the store, investigating the place.

"Those are interesting," Danny waved his hand at the pictures, "Rare art?"

"No, just some photos I found in a dumpster a few years back," the man responded. "Something I can help you gentlemen with?" his body was rotund, dark hair swooped to one side and he wore a scowl as he glanced over at Steve, noticing the odd look on his face, "What's your problem? I'm a collector of odds and ends like the sign says," he shrugged.

"Guys, you should see this," Chin called from a back room.

Danny trailed after Steve as they entered a small, dimly lit room. Steve's eyes weren't sure where to focus. Every corner of the small room was packed with various versions of the same thing. He took a step backwards and ran into something that bumped his head. He spun around and nearly drew his weapon when he noticed the sculpture was about a ten foot high replica of a giraffe. "You gotta be kidding me," Steve backed away from the large statue, feeling uncomfortable in the room. "This is all way too…"

"What's your deal today?" Danny asked. "You seem jumpy."

"That magazine Grace left open was stuck on a picture of a giraffe, Danny," he finally revealed, "Then the zoo flier and the kite and now this room full of strange giraffe stuff. It all seems way too coincidental," Steve concluded.

Chin grinned, "Well, you know my theory on coincidences," he shrugged.

"Yeah," Steve nodded; "They take a lot of…" realization finally dawned on him, "Planning."

"What day is it?" Chin asked, still smiling.

"Stupidest day of the year," Steve groaned.

"April Fool's, babe," Danny laughed. Chin laughed. Even the supposed store owner was laughing from the doorway.

"Why would you do something like that?" Steve shook his head, "This was all you? You think it's funny? I don't like giraffes, and you know that I don't like…" he stopped to think a moment, his head shaking again, "No, you don't know that giraffe's creep me out, do you?"

Danny was too busy laughing to respond.

000

Steve greeted her by opening the front door as she walked toward the house, "Whoa," his nose wrinkled as she dropped her bag on the porch, "You do stink like fish."

Her eyes rolled as she kicked her shoes off and unzipped her pants, sliding them down her legs and flinging them onto the porch next to her shoes, "I'm going to take a nice long, hot bath," Catherine proceeded to peal her blouse off and tossed it into the heap of stinky clothes on the porch.

"Figured you'd want to do that," he nodded, still standing in the doorway, blocking her entrance.

"I'm kind of half-naked here," she waved a hand at him, "You wanna move so I can come in?" Catherine stood there staring at him for a moment, not at all sure why he was glaring at her, "What? Is something wrong?" she looked down at herself, "I know I smell bad, but… Steve, what?"

"Strange thing happened to me today," he leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, "I kept encountering all these images of giraffes. At first it seemed like a coincidence, but then when Danny and Chin started laughing I realized they were pulling one over on me. They finally gave in that it was an April Fool's joke. Which is fine, we pulled pranks all the time in the Navy. But then I started to think about it and I wondered how Chin and Danny knew I didn't like giraffes."

She shrugged.

"It's not exactly something I advertise," Steve said, "And then I recalled the one person I ever revealed that _secret_ to. You told Danny I have a fear of giraffe's?"

"Um…"

"Don't bother trying to deny it. The little weasel already rated you out," he let her know.

Catherine looked over her shoulder, hoping none of their neighbors happened to walk or drive by as she stood on the porch in her underwear, "I'm sorry, he was talking about how you're never afraid of anything and he wanted to pull an April's Fool's joke on you and it just sorta slipped out before I realized. I really am sorry," she apologized.

"I don't think you are," Steve didn't budge, still blocking her path inside, "I told you something in confidence once and you just go and blab it to Danny? Is this because I sent you out this morning to the fish packing place?"

"No," she bit her lip, "I know that part of the job is not always pleasant. And it was probably not very professional of me to complain-text you about it. But that's beside the point because Danny asked me about this prank two weeks ago after what you did to him with the rubber rat in his desk drawer, which was very cruel by the way. We all know he had that rat nibble on him when he went away to sixth grade camp." She could see he was still not amused, "I'm sorry, I didn't really think… it was just meant to be a joke, Steve."

"It's a bit third grade is what it is. I expected more of you, Cath."

"I'm so sorry, Steve, I…"

"You know what… just go take your bath," he stepped aside, "Don't worry about it, really, I'll get over it." Steve closed the door once they were both inside, and then headed toward the kitchen, looking over his shoulder, "I'll open some wine," he did his best to reassure her he wasn't that upset about it. Steve watched her shoulder's slump as she took to the stairs. He was in the kitchen opening a bottle of red wine when he heard an echo of cuss words drift through the house that would make most grown men blush.

"STEVE!" her shout reverbed down the stairs.

He rushed upstairs and into the bathroom, but it took him a second to realize she was perched on the vanity, her knees up to her chin, "What's wrong?"

Catherine pointed to the bathtub.

"Whoa," he caught sight of what had her clinging to the perceived safety of higher ground, about a dozen brown spiders crawling around the white porcelain tub, "That's a lot of spiders," Steve shook his head, "Must be breeding season or something… that's really weird. Glad I'm not afraid of spiders because that'd probably be freaking me out right now," his eyes glanced back to where she sat huddled, her butt nearly in the sink, "Oh, shoot… you're afraid of spiders, aren't you? I almost forgot."

She glared at him, "I hate you so much right now."

"So you can dish it out but you can't…"

"Would you just get rid of them," Catherine interrupted. "Please," she was not above begging, "It's bad enough I'm cowering half naked on a countertop, and I smell like fish… and I freaking hate Danny Williams so much right now for sucking me into all this."

Steve winced, feeling pretty remorseful as he knelt down beside the tub and turned the water on.

"No!" she shrieked, "What are you doing?"

"You said get rid of them," he shrugged, looking over his shoulder at her.

"Not… down… the… drain," she growled, "They'll climb back up."

"Okay," he started to stand again, "I'll go get the jar I brought them in here with and…"

"No jar either. I don't want you to release them into the yard, they'll just find their way back inside. Stomp them," she ordered without hesitation.

"You mean kill them?" Steve saw the cold furry blazing in her eyes and realized he'd taken things too far, "All right," he held his hands up in surrender and glanced down at the innocent spiders, "Sorry guys, I feel responsible for getting you involved in this, but I have to keep the lady happy."

Without another thought his flip-flop adorned foot began the massacre.

000

Steve looked up from his spot on the sofa as she descended the stairs, "Hello, Queen Arachnid," he greeted with a lopsided grin.

Catherine frowned, "Not funny."

"How was your bath?" he chuckled softly, relaxed in black cotton shorts and V-neck navy t-shirt.

"Didn't take one," she sighed, plopping down on the sofa next to him. Catherine drew her legs up to one side and covered them the best she could with her lavender robe, "I showered instead because I was afraid of a spider coming up through the drain and…" she shuddered. "Thanks for ruining my bath, butthead."

He laughed a little harder.

"You think it's funny? You're laughing at me?"

"Well, it is a little funny. You spent eighteen years in the Navy, toured in Afghanistan several times, but some little tiny spiders freak you out?"

She twisted away from him, "I'm not talking to you for the rest of the night."

"Okay," he nodded, handing her one of the two glasses of wine he'd poured for them, "Does it help that I did some research online and found that fear of giraffes is called Giraffobia?"

"Not really, though an aptly named phobia," she took the wine he offered and sipped gratefully, "And you've never really elaborated on the whole giraffe thing. Spider fear is very real, but giraffes? You have to admit that's pretty bizarre. What did giraffes ever do to you? They're not much different than a horse and you like horses."

"Very different from horses, taller, spindly legs, freaky long necks," he protested, "It was a childhood thing, there was a book and then a bad zoo mishap and… I'm not actually afraid of them, they just creep me out. I realize now that you really are afraid of spiders and I'm sorry," he apologized, "Also, I'm willing to take any punishment you might have in mind."

Her eyes narrowed in though, silence stretching out between them for several seconds.

"I don't like how much you're concentrating on this," Steve responded, "I think I may be developing a case of Caligynephobia." He noticed the confused look on her face, "Fear of beautiful women." As her head shook, Steve hunched over the laptop still situated on the coffee table. He scrolled through the phobia list, "You've got to be kidding me… look at this one," he turned the screen toward her, "Arachibutyrophobia: the fear of peanut butter getting stuck to the roof of your mouth. That's a thing?"

"Giraffes, spiders, peanut butter and jelly," she shrugged, "Every time I attended mass as a kid I worried about the Eucharist wafer getting stuck to the roof of my mouth."

"My dad warned me about Catholic school girls," he teased. When she punched him in the shoulder he pretended to be hurt, rubbing his bicep, "Sorry you didn't get to enjoy your bath, but," Steve casually leaned against her, head tilted, his lips almost touching her neck, "You certainly smell… very, very good."

Catherine pushed him away, "If you think you're getting any tonight, buddy, think again."

His eyes lit, liking the challenge she presented, "Did I mention you smell really, really nice?"

"Yes," she tried not to smile, "And you need some new material."

He got close again, hands at her waist, whispering in her ear, "Have I ever told you that I do not suffer from Eurotophobia?"

She was lost for a second, and slightly distracted by the warmth of his body against hers, but she nearly spat wine out as she read the definition on the laptop screen that he was pointing to. Catherine actually laughed, "That's good to know," she nodded, finally cuddling up closer to him. She sat her wine glass on the side table and took the laptop from him, scanning the page. "Ah, here," she pointed to another phobia, "I definitely do not suffer from Medorthophobia."

Steve's brow arched as he read the simple definition, "Very promising."

Catherine sat forward and placed the laptop back on the coffee table, closing it before she retrieved her wine glass. She took a long, slow sip, watching the way Steve was staring at her the whole time, "You do realize this is the oddest foreplay I've ever participated in."

"Does that mean I actually do get some tonight?" he reached for her glass and carefully placing it on the table beside his. Steve transitioned into playful attack mode, tackling her to the sofa, his body hovering above hers as he starred into her golden-brown eyes.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him in closer, "It means I suffer from CantsaynotosexwithSteveophobia," she concluded as their lips reacquainted.

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**The End**


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